


Crossing Paths

by xfsista



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, Regency, Regency Romance, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 08:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1462354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xfsista/pseuds/xfsista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life has a funny way of pushing people together.  A Regency era AU...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossing Paths

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyelainemalfoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyelainemalfoy/gifts).



It was a stifling warm day in the Wiltshire countryside, but it mattered very little to the boy running across field with a pretend wand in hand. After hours of dull lessons, he had finally been released, and the sunshine that had been beckoning him all morning was finally his.

The heat of the sun beat down on his neck and ears, and he could feel the tingling of his mother’s charm protecting him from becoming burnt. The higher grass on the edge of the field tickled his ankles as he made his way to his favorite spot to play near a stream that ran along the edge of his family’s property.

He stopped short when he saw the clearing was already occupied.

Sitting primly on a blanket was a girl reading a book. She had silly, bushy hair and looked to be near his age.

Holding out his stick-wand, he said, “What are you doing here?”

Startled, she looked up at him. “I am reading a book,” she replied.

“What kind of book?” he asked, curiously as he moved closer.

Her brown eyes got huge. “It’s a story about dragons!”

Intrigued, he dropped his “wand” arm. “Dragons?” 

“Yes!” she replied enthusiastically. She started to tell him more about the story, but he interrupted.

“I don’t care about your book. Let’s play dragons instead.”

“That’s very rude! Don’t you have manners?”

“I have impeccable manners,” he insisted. 

“Then, you should ask if I want to play, not tell me.”

“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “Would you like to play dragons?”

Marking her place in her book, she carefully tucked it into her basket. “I suppose,” she said.

“Great! You be the princess, and I’ll rescue you from the dragon!”

“What if I want to rescue _you_?”

“You can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a girl!”

“So?!” 

“So, that’s how it works!” he insisted. 

“I don’t know if I like how you play,” she said.

Grunting, he asked, “How do _you_ want to play?”

Tapping her finger on her chin, she thought for a moment. “What if one of us pretends to be the dragon?” she suggested.

He scrunched his eyebrows. It was a good idea, although he really didn’t want to admit it. “I suppose that would be acceptable.”

The girl stood up and clapped her hands. “Which one of us will be the dragon first?”

“I will,” he said, “since my name is Draco, and that is Latin for dragon.”

“Ooh!” she said, clearly impressed. “Pleased to meet you, Draco,” she greeted with a curtsy. “I am Hermione.”

Draco gave a little bow as he had been taught. “Now, can we play?” he whined.

“Yes, let’s!”

The two new friends walked toward a small copse of trees. Draco felt a touch on his hair and whipped his head around.

Hermione’s face was pink with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve never seen hair like yours before.”

He felt his cheeks warm to match hers, but he lifted his chin. “It’s the same as my father’s.” The pride was clear in his voice.

“It’s very soft,” she whispered shyly.

“How about that tree?” he asked diverting her attention.

“For what?”

“The dragon!”

Hermione gazed at him worriedly.

Draco pointed up. “I’ll climb up and sit on that branch right there. Here!” He picked up a long stick and handed it to her. “This can be your sword.”

He scrambled up the tree, the slick soles of his shoes occasionally sliding over the bark.

“Draco,” Hermione called up to him. “Perhaps you should take off your shoes!”

He curled his lip in disgust. “Take my shoes off?! I’m a gentleman, not a barbarian.”

Hermione watched anxiously as he climbed higher and higher. Precariously, he held onto the tree’s trunk with one hand and a branch overhead with the other, as he tried to step up onto a much higher branch. His foot slipped, and he came hurdling down through the branches and hit the ground with a hard thump.

“Draco!” Hermione screamed as she rushed to him and dropped to her knees beside his unconscious form. His face and hands were covered in bloody scrapes, and his shoulder was at an odd disjointed angle.

Afraid and uncertain what to do, the little girl began to cry.

“Draco, wake up!” she sobbed. 

When he didn’t respond, she shook him gently. “Draco? Please don’t be dead! Wake up!”

“Get away from him you filthy Muggle!” a deep booming voice rang through the clearing. Startled, Hermione fell back away from Draco onto her bottom. A tall man with long platinum hair and a terrifying look in his eye was charging toward them.

When he closed in on them, he stuck the end of his cane into her shoulder and pushed her back further. “I _said_ to get away from him.”

Frightened, Hermione complied and backed up against the tree.

Once he seemed satisfied with her distance, he knelt over Draco. “What did you do to him?” he demanded.

“We… we…”

“Spit it out, girl!”

Squaring her shoulders, Hermione took a deep breath. “We were playing dragons. Draco was climbing the tree and fell.”

The man looked back down at Draco with fear and affection. He must have been his father since they had the same hair like Draco had said. He turned back to Hermione, and his eyes went cold.

“Leave,” he told her simply. 

“But Draco’s my friend,” she blurted out with some unknown courage.

“Draco is forbidden to associate with filth such as your kind,” he growled. “Now, go, before I have you hanged for trespassing!”

With a gasp, she turned and ran. 

***

Ten Years Later

The party was in full swing, and surprisingly, Hermione found herself having a pleasant time. She could dance just as well as any other girl, but truth be told, she found all the rules of flirtation to be a bit silly. If given a choice between a dance and a novel, she’d choose the written word every time.

However, on this particular even, she was surrounded by her particular good friends, and she couldn’t help but enjoy herself. The ball was a celebration of the return of their wizarding warriors, and her oldest and dearest friend, Harry Potter, was being honored for defeating the darkest of wizards, Lord Tom Riddle.

She stood on the edge of the dance floor talking with Miss Ginny Weasley, and her brother, Ron, when she spotted him out of the corner of her eye. In the dim, yellow candlelight, his pale hair took on an eerily glow.

Suddenly, she was taken back to that day in the woods, and the blond boy with hair like no other who fell from a tree, and his father who threatened to kill her. Despite those threats, she had always wanted to sneak back just to see if he had been alright for, until that very moment, she never knew if he lived or died.

But there he was, standing in the same room, alive and well.

“What’s _he_ doing here?” Ron groaned.

“Who?” asked Ginny.

“Draco Malfoy.”

“Who’s Draco Malfoy?” Hermione asked trying not sound too interested.

“An arrogant dandy who’s fairly flush in the pockets. Rumour has it his father was a Riddle supporter,” Ron answered as he shot daggers with his eyes at Malfoy from across the room.

Hermione found herself recalling her own encounter with the Malfoy patriarch and how he referred to her as “Muggle filth.” She wouldn’t doubt he would associate with Riddle’s blood supremacist’s ideals. 

But that did not stop her curiousity regarding Draco. He had grown into quite a handsome young man, with sharp aristocratic features and steely grey eyes. He was tall with a slender, athletic figure. And judging by the number of female eyes upon him, it seemed that many a young lady considered him dashing.

Before she could contemplate further, the party was called to dinner. However, it seemed he wasn’t meant to drift too far from her thoughts as she found herself seated directly across from him.

He paid her no mind during the first course and chatted exclusively with his companions, a dapper gentleman named Theodore Nott and a dark-haired, round faced woman named Pansy. 

When the second course was brought to the table, his eyes finally met hers. 

Hermione smiled softly at him, but his face remained impassive. His gaze did flick briefly to her décolletage, which made her face warm under his scrutiny.

“Tell me, Mr. Malfoy, do you still climb trees?” she asked suddenly.

His eyes snapped back to her face. “Pardon?”

“I asked if you still fancy tree climbing?”

“I’m sorry, Miss,“ he said, obviously confused, “have we been introduced?”

“Not formally,” she answered. “But you’re still the only person I’ve ever seen with that color hair.”

She watched as recognition flared in his eyes. “Hermione? The little bookworm?”

“Good to know you did not lose your memory in your fall,” she said teasingly.

“But… I thought you were a Muggle.”

“So did I.”

His face fell slightly. “Oh. You’re a…”

“A Muggleborn, Malfoy,” Ron Weasley interrupted. He’d been following the conversation out of the corner of his eye with interest. “Although, I know that’s not the word your people usually use.”

“Ronald!” Hermione chastised.

“Excuse me, Weasley,” Draco snarled. “I don’t believe I was having a conversation with you.”

“No, you were about to insult Miss Granger.”

“Oh? Are you a seer now?”

“One doesn’t have to be a seer to know what you were going to call her.”

“You don’t know me, and I don’t like what you’re implying,” Draco growled.

“I’m not implying anything,” Ron said. “I’m saying it outright.” 

“Ron!” Hermione hated the sound of desperation in her voice, but she knew how out of control her friend’s temper could be. Even Harry had noticed what was happening from the other side of the room, and he was making his way over to diffuse to situation

But it was all for naught. Draco had whipped his wand out.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “Wands at dawn.”

Gasped echoed throughout the room, and a couple ladies even swooned. It wasn’t often these days for a duel to break out over dinner.

“Dawn,” Ron agreed with a nod, his eyes raw with fury.

Without finishing his meal, Draco stood and bowed to Hermione and thanked their host for the evening, then left. Hermione sat in shock over the entire exchange as Harry argued with Ron.

“What were you thinking? Malfoy is one of the best duelists in the country!”

“You didn’t hear—“

“He didn’t say anything, Ronald,” she said. “I was just trying to catch up with an old friend.”

“When, pray tell, did you become friends with Draco Malfoy?” he asked.

“It’s a long story,” she responded with a sigh. A story that she didn’t have time for at the moment, for she had to think of a way to keep Ron from getting injured, or worse, in his duel against Draco.

***

The dawn air was crisp, and Draco shivered as he removed his cloak that was saturated by the heavy mist of the morning.

He stood before Ronald Weasley a little surprised that the bull-headed idiot had even showed, but he knew that he was more bollocks than brains.

Silently, they went through the motions of beginning a proper wizards' duel. First, they stood back-to-back. Then, they counted the paces before turning and firing their first spells at one another. 

Draco started with mild hex, and Weasley wordlessly blocked it. It surprised Draco that his opponent was skilled enough to cast silently.

As they continued, Draco's hexes became harsher and more violent, but Weasley continued to only block and throw back minor spells. Finally, a slicing hex hit him in the shoulder, and he let out a cry, but it was far more feminine than Weasley's usual deep voice.

Startled, Draco briefly lowered his wand, before raising it again and marching forward. He grabbed the red-headed man by the collar and dragged him forward.

"Who are you?!" he demanded.

The imposter pressed his lips together and shook his head.

Draco shook him, and asked again. "I said, who are you?!"

He watched in horror as the freckled visage before him began to bubble and shift into a smoother complexion. The ginger hair sprung out into massive, long springy curls, and the eyes turned from cold blue to big and brown. 

Draco was no longer holding onto Ronald Weasley, but Hermione Granger in men's clothing that was much too big for her, and she was bleeding profusely.

"What have you done?" he asked with a strangled voice.

"I couldn't let you kill my friend," she said with a soft voice before her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell into a dead faint.

***

Hermione's eyes fluttered open, and she gazed around the unfamiliar room.

"We're in a room at the local inn," said a voice to her left. She turned and saw Draco Malfoy's unreadable eyes staring at her.

She sat up quickly, and her head began to swim. "Oh!" she said as she brought her hand to her forehead.

Malfoy stood up and eased her back to the bed. "You lost quite a bit of blood. I healed you as best I could, but I didn't have any blood-replenishing potion. It's best that you lie down for a while."

"Thank you," she said weakly.

He looked at her strangely, and it made her feel funny inside. "That was a very foolish thing you did," he chastised. "I could have hurt you much worse. I could have killed you!"

"But you did not," she insisted.

"But I could have!"

His gaze slipped from her eyes to her shoulder where he had hit her with the hex. The large shirt she was wearing had slipped down baring her shoulder. Blushing, she pulled the material back up and he averted his eyes.

"How did you do it?" he asked. "How did you switch places with Weasley?"

"I slipped him an extra strong sleeping potion last night so he'd oversleep, then I took polyjuice."

"You use your intelligence foolishly, but I cannot help but be impressed, Miss Granger."

"Mr. Malfoy, I--"

Suddenly, the door flew open, and there stood Harry Potter and a slightly drowsy looking Ronald Weasley.

Hermione could tell by the look on their faces that the scene before them appeared less than innocent. Two unmarried people together in an inn, one of which was in the bed while the other was leaning protectively over her.

Her reputation was ruined.

***

Hexes were thrown, names were called, tears were shed. Hermione fretted, but in the end, Draco said, "I shall do the honorable thing."

Her face was flushed from crying and her eyes glossy with tears. "You'll what?" she asked him.

"Of course, I shall marry you," he said matter-of-factly.

And in a moment, it was settled. However, only Merlin knew what the future would bring.

***

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I have to apologize because this definitely did not become as fully fleshed as I would have liked, and it's honestly not my best work. Real life got in the way big time (I unexpectedly got called away on a work trip -- which was not even part of my job, but I digress -- that threw a monkey wrench in my writing plans), and I was working on this up until the very last minute before reveals.
> 
> However, this story is one that I'd actually like to develop more because the idea itself is one that I'm kind of in love with. I _really_ want to explore their forced marriage and the Pureblood/Muggleborn aspect and Lucius' obvious displeasure. But it needs way more than I was able to give it at this time. :/


End file.
